I did not always want a child. It might be more accurate to say I did not admit to wanting a child. Deep down, I did want a child. I wanted a child so badly, but I lived my life believing I could never have what I truly wanted, so why would this be any different!
I told myself I did not want a child.
Every birth story begins well before a baby is born, even before the moment of conception. I believe every birth story can be traced back to the moment a woman decides she wants to become a Mom. While most stories are told from the beginning, mine will begin at the end, which is a beginning all it is own. Here is the “day of my son’s birth” story; and, yes, I journaled this while in labor, up to a point:
I wearily look at the clock on my side dresser: 1:30 am! Why can’t I go into labor during the day? If I had known I was going to go into labor so early in the morning, I would have savored my last full night of sleep the night before. Yes, to the chagrin of many of my Mommy friends, I slept through the night up until the night I went into labor! I was a lucky one.
As I accept the fact that this really is the beginning of labor, and that you are ready to greet the world, I climb out of bed to go to the bathroom. The cramps are rather slight, feeling more like the onset of menstrual cramps. As I finish up in the bathroom, I notice some light bleeding. I’m sure this is perfectly normal but my thoughts can’t help but nag at me just a little. “What if it is not time?” “What if something is wrong?” To ease my fears, I run a warm bath to soak in. I haven’t taken a bath my entire pregnancy so this is a welcome luxury.
I lie in the tub, my belly and breasts sticking up out of the water, thinking about nothing really. I just let myself lie there, holding my protruding baby bump, relishing my final moments of pregnancy. I have so thoroughly enjoyed being pregnant and, as much as I am ready to meet my son, I will miss being pregnant. I run my finger along my belly line, talking to my unborn child, telling him we have a big day ahead of us, but soon he will be in my arms! This is when reality sets in, and I decide I should probably text his father.
The response to my text is rather quick, much quicker than I had anticipated, but I don’t hear a knock on the door for another hour-and-a-half. I trudge over to the door, trying not to trip over my two dogs that are eager to beat me to it. “So, are you sure? You’re sure you’re in labor?” are his first words. I assure him that, yes, it really is time to head to the hospital.
It is not until we are preparing to leave the house that I realize it is raining outside. It is pouring and thundering and lightening, actually! How did I miss all this while soaking in the tub and waiting for my son’s father to arrive? I hastily grab my large, white coat, the one with the fur-lined hood, as we head out the door.
Arriving at the hospital, I easily walk to the elevator that takes us up to the second floor. We are placed in a triage area where my belly takes on the appearance of a mad-scientist’s experiment, suction cups and belts strewn across me. After waiting, what seemed like hours but was a mere thirty-two minutes, my mid-wife comes hurrying in. Upon examining me, she says, “Hon, you’re only dilated to one.”
“That can’t be! I’ve been in labor for hours and the contractions are coming less than three minutes apart,” my voice pleads.
During her examination, she proceeds to strip my membrane, stretching me to a miraculous two in a matter of seconds; God bless her! I am still sent home, though. So, we drive back through the pouring rain, and thunder and lightning, to wait for my contractions to become more intense and closer together.
While waiting, my entire family makes the two-and-a-half hour journey to my house. Along the way, my younger sister and her family drive through a massive puddle on the freeway, right as a lightning bolt strikes it, sending blue streaks scurrying across their car. I can’t believe my sister and her family drove through lightning to get to my son’s birth! What a great story this will be to share with him when he gets older!
At home, I try to eat, knowing that I will need my strength in the coming hours. Unfortunately, my son doesn’t care for Popeye’s Chicken and sends my food right back up from where it came! Now, I know it is time to return to the hospital. This time, there is a caravan of cars creeping along through the massive storm that is moving through our area. Through the windshield wipers, desperately trying to shield us from the torrential downpour, I can barely make out the car in front of us but I can see that it is my dad’s corvette! How did my parents get ahead of us?
Pulling up to the hospital, my son’s father decides to drop my niece and me off at the front entrance, sparing us from having to walk through the rain. Thank goodness he does because my contractions are coming so intensely now that I have to stop walking every couple of minutes to bend over and breath through them. Speaking of which, here comes one now! As I hunch over the back of a chair in the waiting area, my niece goes to re-check me in. I can hear the girl asking if I want a wheelchair. I politely decline. She asks again and I say, “No, thank you!” She asks my niece, who then asks me. I shake my head, rather vehemently at this point, and say, “I can’t sit down, but thank you!”
And, so begins three hours of pacing, pausing, bending over, and breathing through contractions, as I wait for a delivery room to open. Apparently, the storm has brought on labor for many mothers-to-be, and I am finally given an overflow room, which I can’t complain about because it is quite spacious and comfortable. Leading up to this day, I had not been sure whether I would want anyone else in the room during my delivery but, in the midst of it all, I did not seem to care that my mom, my two sisters, and my niece accompanied me and my son’s father into our delivery room.
At 5:10pm, on January 20, 2010, I held my son for the first time. I’ve never been the same!